No Place Like A Home
by Assilem-1
Summary: Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.
1. Prologue

**Title:** **No Place Like a Home**  
**Author: ** Assilem1 a.k.a. Melissa  
**Fandom: ** SPN, AU, Pre-series but will lead to the Pilot, Sam is 8, Dean is 12  
**Disclaimer: **Anything you recognize? Not mine.  
**Archiving:** Please ask before archiving.  
**Category: ** Gen  
**Spoilers: ** None  
**Summary: ** _Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in. - Robert Frost_

**Prologue**

_It all started with a phone call._

It was a totally normal day. Well, normal for the Winchesters anyway . . . Which, of course, was a different kind of normal than other people.

They were in the middle of a cemetery. Sounds of exertion, pain, and a kinda sickly rustling, the only sound for miles. John Winchester and his eldest were battling a ghoul (hence the rustling sound), which had managed to toss John around one time too many, which was to say, once, but it had also managed to knock the nifty flamethrower they brought with them just for this purpose away and a twelve-year-old Dean was currently trying to stay out of the way of battle yet still retrieve the weapon when a young, pre-adolescent voice split the air.

"_Dad!"_

Both Dean and John continued what they were doing, John with a pang, because he recognized, just as Dean did, that had Sam been in any kind of danger, he would have called for his brother, not his father.

"Hang on, Sam" John grunted, knocking the ghoul that was apparently peckish, back a step and then swinging the axe that he had finally managed to get out of the tree trunk it had been lodged in in a show of force that would have put any normal human down for the count, minus a part or two. Since this was no normal human, he had to just keep swinging, thuds impacting the ground as the ghoul howled then fell silent, parts of it flying away in a shower of viscous fluid.

"Any day now, Dean" John said as, finished, he stepped back and bent to wipe his axe on a patch of grass. He then slung it over one shoulder, and arched an impatient brow at Dean, who had been staring at the scene and was apparently intent on catching flies.

"Right . . . Ok" Dean snapped back to attention, closing his mouth and lifting the flamethrower to torch the remains of the ghoul who, frankly, had never stood a chance against his father.

When finished, he handed over the flamethrower and wiped sweaty palms on his jeans before rushing towards the car and Sam with a wide grin on his face.

"What do you think Sammy wants?" his father called to Dean, even as another call from Sam split the air. Dean didn't seem to hear him, too intent on getting to Sammy, just increasing his steps to the Impala. When they arrived, they were both surprised to see Sam talking into John's cell phone.

"It'll be alright. Don't worry, it'll be ok" Sam was saying soothingly. John just marveled at the fact that his son seemed to be eight going on eighty at any given time and he was sure that whomever his son was talking to was invariably an adult. "He's coming now. I'll let you talk to him" and with that Sam held out the phone with a pleading look to his dad that said _"Be nice"_ and _"Fix this"_ all at the same time.

And _there _was the eight year old again . . . Amazing how Sam slipped between those two ages so seamlessly.

He only managed to get out a hello, Dean already shoving Sam over and pushing his way into the backseat where he dimly heard him questioning who was on the phone before a panicked voice sounded in his ear.

"_Johnny?!"_

"Pop??!" John said, surprised. "What's wrong?"

_"There's, there's somebody at the door son. . . He said he knew you and we were talking so I invited him in but you know how you put that stuff, what was it, sugar?, under the seal of the door? Well, when he got ready to come in, he hit the threshold and well, his eyes, they changed son-"_

John's blood ran cold.

"_-and he wouldn't leave. I ordered him off my property. I called the Sheriff, but when he came, the guy killed, he killed him as easy as breathing . . . even, I even, shot him but he just stood there bleeding and what the hell kinda man you shoot that don't care they been shot?! And I swear he's out there just smiling and bleeding, Johnny. Smiling and bleeding! What kinda man?!"_ Hysteria was starting to overtake his father's voice.

The next few minutes passed in a blur as John slid into the car, started the engine and told his father to stay put, reassuring him that they would be there soon, already calculating the distance from Mississippi to Texas in his mind, thankful they weren't further away.

"_This doesn't make sense son"_ his father repeated wearily, confusion still clear in his voice.

"I know Pop, just stay inside. We'll be there soon" and he snapped the phone shut.

Silence reigned in the car for a minute, just the sound of the engine cutting through the night before a small voice spoke from the back.

"We're gonna help Grandpa?" Sam's voice wobbled on the question.

"Yeah, Sammy. He's gonna be fine."

He heard a relieved sigh and chanced a glance in the rearview mirror in time to see a solemn Dean wrap a reassuring arm around Sam who collapsed gratefully against him, before he focused again on the road.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: New Beginnings**

John shook his head, looking around at all the _stuff _there suddenly was. Boxes were spread out all around the living room, furniture swimming amongst them and he was still flabbergasted at how going to his father's house to exorcise a demon had turned into i_this:_/iHis father traveling with them on the road to finally settling all of them in a home in the suburbs.

'A home base' his father had called it, but Sam had seized on the word _home_ and wouldn't let go and Dean, as comfortable as he'd seemed with the constant traveling they'd always done, didn't seem adverse to the idea either, so John, feeling triple-teamed, had agreed.

"Johnny!" his father thundered "Get your behind out here and help with these boxes!" And John Winchester, whose mere name was only just _beginning_ to make evil things shudder; John Winchester who just last week had gone up against a werewolf and won; John Winchester, hunter extraordinaire, actually startled and rushed to answer to a man nearly twice his age.

--

"I'll be back in an hour" John said to Sammy and his father, who were sitting at the kitchen table putting together a puzzle. Dean was in the other room watching television.

His father looked up at John in consternation. "Did you clean your room Johnny? You know your mother and I told you you couldn't go out until you cleaned your room."

"Pop-" John started and then sighed. "Pop I'm grown now, remember? That was a rule when I was a kid?"

"You just wait till your Momma gets home. She'll inspect your room and see if it's clean enough. Until then you aren't going anywhere" and with that he snapped a piece into place on the board like he was being completely reasonable.

John sighed again.

"Pop, I'm just going to get some supplies in the next town over. Why don't you take a nap?" he said gently.

"Don't you patronize me, young man. You're never too old for me to put you over my knee" his father said sternly.

"I kinda am Pop" John said and when his father's face settled into those familiar lines he recognized from childhood he said plaintively _"Pop."_

His father just stared back impassively.

"Fine" John grunted and sat heavily in a chair at the table, arms crossed . . . Then flinched a second later when he heard Sammy muffle laughter behind his hand, then behind both hands as chuckles spilt out around his fingers . . . Then he heard Dean giggle, actually _giggle _from the doorway and his face creased a moment later in a smile, a moment of his kids being kids for once was almost worth being put on punishment by his Dad at the whopping age of 37.

Then Sammy fell out of his chair laughing and he said sternly to both his sons "Shut it!"

"Oh, don't yell at the children Johnny. It's not their fault you didn't clean your room."

"But I-" John stopped mid-complaint, marveling at a world where his father's Alzheimer's allowed him to simultaneously put his adult son on punishment like he was still thirteen and yet acknowledge his son's two children at the same time.

He heard Dean collapse a moment later from laughter and just gave up any hope of dignity for the night.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_"What are you watching?"_

_"I don't know. One of those Real World Reunion shows just went off."_

Silence reigned for a few minutes as commercials played. Then-

_"Ok, we are not watching Jackass. Hurry up and change the channel before I see something stupid."_

_"If I could, I would. I lost the remote like two hours ago."_

_"Well get up and help me find it already!"  
_  
A groan and then shifting furniture and shuffling sounds came from the living room and their grandfather went back to reading his book.

_"Oh god, where are his pants?!"_ Sam asked, panic in his voice.

_"I don't know, I'm not looking at it!"_ came from Dean before Sam started yelling _"My eyes! My eyes!"_

At that point, their grandfather sighed and set down his book, making his way into the living room. He carefully stepped over a rolling and moaning Sam and walked around Dean who was studiously avoiding the tv while still looking for the remote.

"You know, in my day we simply turned off the tv if there was something on we didn't want to watch" he said, hitting the power button. Immediately Sam sat up and smiled.

"Thanks Grandpa!"

"Why don't you two go outside and play? It's too nice to be inside." He herded them towards the door even as they both stared back at him slack-jawed.

"Play?" Sam whispered to Dean.

"But we're not little kids, Sammy" Dean was saying, genuinely puzzled.

"What should we do Grandpa?" Sam asked him at the door, with the sun at his back, as if it wasn't obvious. Dean looked over at him too, curiously.

"I don't know. Dig a hole or something. Just be kids for awhile . . . It's ok" he said to them softly, eyes prickling a little as he realized that they really didn't know _how._

Dean gave him a long suffering look, like they'd just been told they had to go to the dentist and then he pulled Sammy out the door and down the stairs.

"And don't come back until the streetlights come on!" he yelled after them as they made their way into the backyard.

He was going to have to have a talk with his son when he got back, about letting children be children once in awhile.

He settled back down with his book and all was quiet for a few hours until John came home.

As John walked in, he could hear Sam talking a mile a minute with Dean supplying agreement every once in awhile when prompted by Sam, but John only had one question when Sam quieted down.  
_  
"Why is there a hole in the backyard?"_

Their grandfather just raised his book higher and tried not be noticed.

Who knew they'd take him so literally?


End file.
